"Neron is dead, O Great Mother."

A deep voice, laced with gravity, spoke. The man had the trademark golden hair and green eyes of the Worldborn.

He wore a luxurious celestial robe laced with living green leaves that twitched faintly, too alive to be mere decoration.

He lowered his head as he spoke to the stunning being before him.

This was the Orator of the Worldborn — the one who carried tidings of elves, of Worldborn matters, of universal news to the Progenitor herself.

To Luelle Worldborn.

The woman sat calmly beneath a colossal green tree, its leaves so vast they seemed to cradle entire universes within their veins.

Yet even before such a cosmic tree, one's eyes strayed inevitably to Luelle. Her beauty was suffocating.

Her body resembled polished, perfected wood, supple yet radiant, glowing faintly with soft green light. Veins of luminous sap coursed across her skin, as water threads down stone in an endless stream.

Her eyes were an eternal swirl of leaves, a cornucopia in motion, chaotic yet strangely harmonious.

At the Orator's words, Luelle paused briefly in her sewing — for she was calmly sewing clothes — then resumed as if nothing had happened.

"Who killed my child?" Luelle asked, her voice soft as melting snow, yet heavy, crushing, as though she spoke within a chamber of unbearable gravity.

"Unfortunately, Great Mother, we were not able to track down the culprit of this sacrilegious action." The Orator's voice shook with barely restrained fury at the audacity of the act.

"The Realm of Thorns was completely destroyed. Nothing was left behind." He fell silent.

"Whoever did this stood high enough in term of status to know I can feel the death of my children," Luelle said, her tone steady.

If Neron's death had struck her ancient heart, not a flicker of it showed outwardly.

"They must also have means to veil my senses this completely, this thoroughly," she continued, her words patient, as if speaking to a child.

"That is what we suspect too, Great Mother," the Orator said with a firm nod. "Given the power required, it must be one of the great factions who hold grudges against us."

"Who do you think they are?"

"The High Humans," he answered. "They remain furious at Young Master Orien for his slaughter of their lower worlds. They crave revenge."

"And the Divine Beasts, Great Mother."

"The Beasts I expected," she replied coldly. "That feud belongs to me and their whelp of progenitor. But the High Humans?" She raised her gaze, fixing it upon the Orator.

"Since when have they grown so bold?"

Her glance suffocated him. His chest tightened as though crushed by mountains.

"W-We do not know, Great Mother," he stammered. "It is speculation. But given Young Master Orien's dealings with them, I felt it prudent to include them."

Luelle waved her hand dismissively, as if brushing aside a buzzing insect.

"Those lanky humans lack the courage. They are like their Progenitor, a coward who survived by cowardice alone."

Her tone deepened, sharpened.

"But If I were you…I would consider the abominations. Especially now, with a third who prowls, daring and wild."

The Orator's eyes widened. He had nearly forgotten. But even so…

"Why would they kill Neron, Great Mother? They would gain nothing. In fact, they would lose more."

"Why wouldn't they?"

Her voice was chilling in its simplicity.

"My baby Orien never needed a reason to erase entire worlds."

"You did not need a reason to kill a lowly servant," she continued. Her eyes flared with green fire, silence dropping across the paradisiacal realm like a bomb waiting to detonate.

"And I… I can erase entire legacies, entire factions…without needing a reason."

Her gaze bore into him.

"Do you know why, my lovely child?"

His answer came instantly, instinctively.

"Strength is the most spoken language of the universe, Great Mother. We do all this because we can… because we know no repercussions will come."

Luelle nodded faintly, lips curving into an approving smile.

"Yes. It does not matter whether your strength was granted, earned, or stolen. What matters is bending the lesser to their knees. That is what we do."

Her voice sharpened again, like venom in silk.

"My child Neron met something stronger, and so he perished. But…"

Her eyes turned murderous.

"Every rule has exceptions. And my children are exceptions. None may touch them. Whoever does will be killed."

Her voice grew glacial.

"Find me the abominations. All of them. If I do not receive news within five years, I will act myself. And if I am disappointed…"

She left the threat unspoken and returned to her sewing, her hands calm as rivers, her words lingering like thunder.

The Orator's mind raced wildly, panic thrumming like poisoned drums in his chest.

To disappoint the Great Mother was to invite obliteration.

His eyes hardened like tempered steel. He bowed deeply, his voice merciless, iron-willed.

"We will find them, Great Mother. No matter the cost."

…

Void.

That was all the group saw as they traveled toward Earth.

The void was strange — but this void, devoid of mana, was something altogether alien.

Excluding Noah, none of them could fathom how this place still stood, how it had not collapsed into nothingness. Odd metallic structures drifted here and there, unrecognizable, relics of something older than time.

Noah had an idea, though even to him it sounded far-fetched.

The others wrestled with one question, primordial and terrifying:

Was not mana life? That was what they had been taught.

So how could existence persist here, where mana was absent?

As if fate demanded it, Virgo seized this moment of shared wonder to prove her worth. She spoke of void realms in her own universe, barren of mana, yet whispered to hide impossible truths.

She told of one such place, claimed long ago by the enigmatic Merchant — a world he guarded jealously, said to contain the relic of the first civilization, perhaps even the origin of all universes.

Noah and his siblings listened intently, their curiosity sharpened.

Their senses tingled. Their blood boiled.

Something was coming. Something vast, inevitable, fascinating.

They simply did not know when, where, or how.

Until…

Just minutes before reaching Earth, reality itself tore open before them, parting like a curtain. A portal of swirling white light erupted, filled with dreadful enlightenment.

Noah's senses screamed first, frantic and wild, followed by the others.

But it was too late.

The white light swallowed them whole, erasing their presence in an instant.

Only Noah's frustrated voice lingered, echoing faintly into the silence.

"Ah Providence…did you see this coming?"

A pause echoed through the void then…

[Of course, Noah.]

A resounding chuckle boomed out.

Then the portal vanished as if it had never existed. Earth spun on in peace, ignorant, untouched by the brush of vengeful titans.

Well… for now.

Noah wasn't that petty. He wasn't that heartless either.

…Right?

—End of Chapter 343—

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